


Breathe

by Nemoinis



Category: due South
Genre: Background Character Death, Breathplay, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV First Person, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemoinis/pseuds/Nemoinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser gets what he needs from Turnbull, but not necessarily what he wants. </p><p>Please see notes at the end of this story for warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Moving everything to AO3. 
> 
> All Comments and Kudos appreciated!

He rouses me with gentle strokes to my thigh, rubbing his hands along our tangled legs. The shades are pulled and the lights dim; a forbidden afternoon, spent tangled in the sheets. I want to pull away, remove myself from those hungry, sleepy eyes but I don't. I never do. He knows that he has what I need and as long as he's willing to give it to me, I'll continue to stay. 

He seems so different lying there; dark lashes against his pale cheeks, looking so bruised and innocent. The way they all see him, inept and clueless; so different than what I've seen. When I see him during the day, it's so hard to not think of the way his head draws back in pleasure; how his mouth is no longer soft and inviting and the words that come from those lips are not so polite. And how my name sounds forced through clenched teeth. And what he does to me. For me.

I hate myself for wanting this, needing this thing. He's never questioned it once, simply giving me what I ask for. Accepting his indifferent place in my life, making me forget. Allowing me to remember. Unable to comprehend what goes on behind his bright eyes, I wonder if he knows. But then, when I'm finally ready to pull away, he makes it clear he understands and he'll continue. Beyond that, I've discovered, I don't care.

Smiling, he pulls me to his mouth, tasting me with his hot tongue, licking at my lips, my chin. His mouth is warm and sweet, like heavy syrup, and underlying it all, I can sense the faintly bitter bite of myself. I harden from that taste alone, remembering the feel of his open mouth swallowing me, devouring me; when he strung me out like a junkie vying for his next fix.

His hands are already wandering over me, gentle and urgent, flexing their power over me, making me moan deep in my throat. He's moved to my throat and he pauses briefly, inhaling against my shoulder, whispering my name. Tightening his grip slightly, he scrapes his teeth over my flushed skin.

I shudder and he moves on, capable hands stroking my flanks, teasingly. He handles me like a rider handles his mount, with a firm hand, quieting my nervous shivering, until I can do nothing but lay quivering beneath him. Still, he probes my body, relearning every square inch. Thorough, like a Mountie should be, until there's no place that he hasn't touched or tasted or breathed in and my skin is vibrating.

He caresses my stomach with light teasing touches, dipping into the recess of my belly button with his tongue. Holding me down, he nips at my hips, laving the crease of my thigh with his wet mouth, his breath scalding me. For a moment, I feel like my body is an altar and he lays before me, supplicating and needy. Why does he have to touch me this way? Like I'm a treasure that must be protected and loved and treated so tenderly. Touching me in ways that no one will ever be able to match. I hate myself. 

I can feel my cock throb in delicious time with his hum as he sucks me into his mouth. Another quick lick and he rolls me over, giving me the chance to get away and I take it, like I always take it. Struggling to my knees and kicking back, but he's there, with his heavy weight and his strength and he pushes inside me, hot breath against my back, curling about me like a second skin.

Pushing my leg out of his way, pinning my arms tightly to my own chest, he gives me no respite. The hard stretch of my body about him makes my shiver. I writhe and he pushes harder, forcing me onto my belly, covering me in a way that Ray never could, forcing his will on my body. Bigger, stronger, harder.

He knows how much it excites me, to feel his hard nipples rubbing against my back, the moist breathy noises that he makes at my neck. How his teeth feel as they pull at the skin on my nape, marking me, making me his. Long slow thrusts, angled and deep, driving me to the edge. Short hard strokes, pushing me further into the bed. Making me beg and plead and cry his name.

His hand moves to grip me, heavy and sweaty. He swirls his thumb about the leaking slit and then brings it to his mouth, licking away my precum before offering his fingers to me. I draw them in and chew at the tips, tasting our sweat and desire, before he returns them to my cock. He squeezes me beneath the glans, pumping in counter rhythm to his movements, gnawing on my shoulder blades. Tells me with his throaty voice to fuck myself on his body.

And I do everything he demands.

I beg with my body and my voice. I let the feeling wash over me and through me, until I can't even stop the tears that leak between my closed lids and down my cheeks. My one brief moment of regret, that he alone will never be enough.

He pulls my head around and laps at the salt. Drinking them like nectar and that small thing makes my balls tighten and my back arch. My gyration forces him to release my chin and push my face into the pillow. Strong hand cupping my skull, the soft sweet scent of the down filling my nose, air being pounded out of my lungs with his body. I'm dizzy now, a beautiful red haze covers my eyes, and my body betrays me. Struggling for air, fighting him, but he's strong and heavy, and I never have a chance.

My ears roar, my heart pounds, my lungs ache, and I swear I can feel each thread in the sheets beneath my fingers. Then red haze is turning a lazy black; I can see us, his beautiful tight body holding me down as he thrusts. For one crazy sweet moment, everything is as clear as it was that day.

A report so loud in my ears. Ray hitting the ground, limp and boneless.

Victoria, older and empty-eyed. The small lovers murmur she makes when I snap her neck.

Ray's faint voice telling me that...

Body jerking, I come and his timing is perfect. There is the sudden rush of sweet cold air filling my lungs and the hot spatter of him inside me. His hoarse, shaking voice telling me to breathe. 

Listening to the voice fade in the distance and the pain in my heart take hold again, I stroke Turnbull gently on the cheek and lie my thanks to him. One day, some day, he'll be too late, and the last thing I'll hear is Ray, telling me he loves me.

I have all the time in the world to get it right.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This story contains reference to the shooting death of Ray Vecchio and Fraser killing Victoria in revenge. Fraser also engages in breathplay with Turnbull, hoping that he eventually will not stop in time and Fraser will die.


End file.
